The mysterious visitor was solid.
Schmitz was beaten.
"Sharlie," he said, "is it true dot you vos, or is it true dot you aind't ?" Nickie offered him the bottle in a friendly way, and Schmitz took it and drank.

The draught seemed to abolish all problems.
"Now ye make dot night, Sharlie," said Schmitz.

He staggered into the bar, and returned with an armful of bottles--all full of liquor.

With the adroitness of an expert he knocked the head off a bottle of schnapps.
"Dot is for you, Sharlie," he explained.

The Missing Link assumed possession.
Schmitz knocked the head off another.
"Dot one for me iss," he said.
Then the night began.